


A Day in the Life

by hgdoghouse



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Day Off, M/M, headcold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-12
Updated: 2011-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hgdoghouse/pseuds/hgdoghouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie and Doyle have a day off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day in the Life

"I thought it would never stop raining," Bodie announced, unnecessarily in the circumstances. He had spent every waking moment over the last two days - when he wasn't sniffing pathetically - complaining about the weather. He didn't like spring at the best of times and he hated the rain: the first three weeks of March had been exceedingly wet.

Gaining no response to his pronouncement, he flung back the curtains, the noise reverberating in the soft-breathing silence behind him.

"It's going to be a nice day," he persevered, watching the hum of Monday morning activity in the street below with the smug air of a man on leave.

Rudely awakened, Doyle snuggled deeper under the duvet and hoped, unrealistically, that Bodie would go away.

"My cold's better, too," continued Bodie, undaunted. "I feel great. It must've been the damp in that bloody flat," he added, his sense of grievance resurfacing. Stakeouts had never been one of his favourite pastimes.

The watery sunshine combined with his own sense of well-being made him fling open a window in a burst of enthusiasm. Valiantly ignoring the chill air flooding into the room, Bodie turned to give the huddled lump that was his partner a hopeful look; it occurred to him that Doyle had a very eloquent back.

"Ray. Come on, mate. You can't still be asleep."

His only reply was an indistinct mumble followed by a faint, protesting wriggle. Encouraged by this sign of life, Bodie padded over to give what he presumed was Doyle's backside a friendly swipe.

"That's more like it. Knew you wouldn't want to waste the whole day. It's gone ten - I've been up for hours," he added, lying extravagantly.

"Good f'you."

An irate hand emerged to twitch the duvet higher until all Bodie could see was a few tangled curls.

He sank onto the side of the bed and gave a dejected sigh. "I thought you'd enjoy spending the day with me," he said dolefully. His expression bland, he waited in an expectant silence.

The lump under the duvet twitched, then groaned.

His smile growing, Bodie watched the flex of a smooth shoulder blade, ignored the mumbled invective and saw the hostile lump straighten into a more familiar contour before Doyle rolled limply onto his back. His face blurred with sleep, one cheek pink from its contact with the creased pillow, Doyle blinked owlishly at his tormentor.

"Nothing but a bleeding nuisance, you are," he complained sleepily. "You could've done the shopping or gone down the launderette, but oh no. Much more fun to make me miserable. And you can turn off the pathos, I'm awake now. Satisfied?" But there was no real bite to his voice, his mouth already curving, acknowledging Bodie's expression.

"Is that all you can say to the love of your life," Bodie mourned, pathos marred by a ferocious sniff.

Doyle rubbed at his forearm, considering the question. "Nah, I s'pose not," he conceded. "Wipe your nose, give us a kiss and you can go and make me some coffee."

Loftily ignoring the first order, Bodie took a leisurely pleasure in the second and was pushed firmly from the bed.

"If I catch your cold," Doyle threatened.

Not wholly convinced that his mate was joking, Bodie languished in the doorway. "Being in love means - "

A lobbed trainer landed a safe distance from his head.

Bodie went to make the coffee.

By way of a peace offering, he returned with two bacon sandwiches, the doorsteps of bread requiring a serpentine jaw movement which Doyle achieved with ease. Mellowing with each bite, he chewed and scattered crumbs with abandon. Swallowing the last mouthful and licking his fingers clean with a self-absorbed pleasure, he looked up to see blue eyes smiling at him.

"So what are you in such a hurry to do today then?" Doyle asked idly, leaning over the side of the bed to retrieve his mug of coffee.

Resuming the vertical he found a chilly hand waiting to cup his unsuspecting flesh. Giving an indignant yelp, he barely avoided drenching himself with coffee.

"Cretin," he accused with cold displeasure. "You're better all right. Strewth." He gave an aggrieved wriggle. "Couldn't you have warmed your hand first?" Breaking off his protest, he arched upwards. "C'mon, shift it. I want to drink my coffee in peace, which I won't have while I'm wondering what you're up to under me."

Sprawled, fully-dressed, on top of the bedclothes, Bodie slid out the offending hand, subduing his pang of regret as the arched rib-cage and flat belly subsided, then disappeared back under the soft bulk of the duvet.

"It's not my fault if you spend all your time sitting on your only asset - or that my hands are cold. We haven't all," Bodie added with dignity, "been tucked up in a nice warm bed all day."

"Just all night. I didn't get off that surveillance detail till gone five," Doyle reminded him righteously. "And did I wake you up when I - ? Well, all right, so I woke you up. It was worth being woken up for, wasn't it?"

"I'm not sure," mused Bodie, his forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. "I seem vaguely to remember. That was you, was it?"

"Yeah. You lying sod." Doyle took hold of the hand nearest to him and gave it a brief squeeze, then a brisk rub. "It's not like you to be this chilly. You want to try warming them up."

All obedience, Bodie nodded before his cold foot crept back under the duvet to land unerringly on the warm flesh of his partner's lower belly. After his initial flinch Doyle propped himself against a supporting shoulder to enjoy the slow, blind caress of the warming hand, sweetness coiling through him to centre in his groin. Re-emerging from his mug of coffee he gave a long stretch, yawned and uncurled his toes.

"Mmm. Not that I'm complaining, but if this is all you had in mind for us to do, why did you bother getting dressed?"

"I didn't have it in mind then," said Bodie placidly.

His fingers sifting through luxuriant curls, he enjoyed Doyle's look of slit-eyed pleasure, the sensual droop of the full mouth that parted for him, a pink tongue tip moistening dry lips as Doyle's breathing accelerated.

"I thought we could take it easy today," Bodie announced, his voice taking on a rhythm which matched that of his caressing hand. "Maybe drive out into the country, go for a walk in the sunshine." Doyle's heavy-lidded eyes opened momentarily wide at that touching display of optimism. "Find a decent pub, have lunch. Then we could come home and go to bed." He made the suggestion as though the idea had only just occurred to him. His curved fingers slid along Doyle's stirring flesh, delicate caresses followed by a brief, encouraging squeeze before they slipped away, his hand resting innocuously on a thin hipbone.

"Tormenting bugger," Doyle accused with feeling. "Your hand was just warming up and - "

The bed shook as Bodie sneezed twice, then a third time when Doyle had supposed the worst to be over. Groping down beside the bed, Bodie found the box of tissues Doyle had thrust at him two nights before. His eyes streaming, he blew his nose with what his partner considered to be unnecessary gusto.

"You what?" Bodie prompted thickly.

Doyle gave him a look of aggrieved amazement. "You can't seriously expect me to remember after that. I've just gone deaf in me right ear. So your cold's better, is it?"

"Small relapse," Bodie dismissed, dropping the soggy bundle of tissues onto the floor. Becoming aware of Doyle's silent but unmistakable displeasure at this action he sighed, picked it up again and stuffed them under his pillow, offering an appeasing beam.

"Sometimes I wonder about you." Leaving the bed, Doyle stalked across the room, took up the waste bin and placed it with pointed emphasis next to his partner. "Why you can't have a cold quietly, like normal people."

"There's nothing unusual about me," replied Bodie, with a trace of indignation.

"No?"

About to clamber back into bed, Doyle paused beside him, the expression in his eyes one of open affection. Sinking onto the side of the bed he leant down to cradle Bodie's face between gentle hands, his thumbs sliding up the silken skin behind the small, neat ears. Bending his head, Doyle kissed his partner with a luxurious lack of haste, the taste of Bodie a pleasure which months of familiarity had only increased.

"Born to be hanged, you were. And bloody irresistible to boot," he murmured eventually.

Gratified, but faintly surprised by the unlooked for tribute, Bodie tried to look suitably modest and reached out hopefully.

Evading his partner's hands, Doyle gave him another quick kiss and vaulting over the cords and polo-neck jumper clad body, slid back under the duvet in one smooth movement, hauling it up under his armpits.

"It's bloody freezing out there," he complained, a mass of goose bumps. "You must be mad opening the window. Look at the state of you - cracked lips, peeling, runny nose and red eyes. You're supposed to be the debonair one, what happened?"

"I met you, didn't I?" said Bodie, untroubled. He lay on his side, watching the small crease that appeared down one cheek when Doyle grinned.

Frankly cuddling his frozen mate, Bodie's unoccupied hand slipped back under the bedclothes to resume its comfortable massage of the flat belly, rhythm slowing until Doyle made an incoherent sound of protest.

"I'm trying to think," he said weakly, belly muscles twitching pleasurably.

"Waste of time," he was told comfortingly.

"You could be right," Doyle conceded, giving his partner a bright speculative look from combed head to well-shod feet.

"Don't think you should go out with that cold," he announced mendaciously. "Be better to stay in the warm, get rid of that cold. We can go tramping through the mud any day - and get paid for doing it too. Best thing is to close that bloody window, bring in the whisky and lemons - medicinal - " he explained in an airy aside, "and we'll toss for who gets up to cook dinner."

"You mean we're going to spend the whole day in bed?" said Bodie, shocked.

"We can use the floor if you'd prefer it," Doyle offered, never a rigid thinker.

Remembering the trouble he had experienced with static electricity from the carpet the last time they had become over-enthusiastic, Bodie shuddered and opted for all the creature comforts he could get.

"Don't sound too enthusiastic." Realising his mistake the moment he said it, Doyle fended off the lunging figure. "Got things to do first," he insisted, re-emerging dishevelled but triumphant.

Bodie flopped back against the pillows. "Rejected again," he sighed.

"That'll be the day." Eyeing the lazy length of his mate, Doyle resisted the urge to ravish him on the spot. "No, it's all right, you get your strength up while I see to everything."

Taking his partner at his word, Bodie watched with approval as Doyle, all activity now, bounced out of bed. The window was closed and curtains drawn within moments. Tripping over the clothing he had abandoned much earlier that day, Doyle eventually made it over to the bedside lamp and flicked it on, bathing himself in a warm glow.

"And don't," he said severely, rubbing a sore portion of buttock, "imagine that I don't know where that came from. You'll be sorry."

"Promises, promises," said Bodie, unrepentant, his eyes straying back to the area in question as Doyle vanished from the room.

Clothing having become a distinct impediment Bodie reluctantly got up, finding the forethought to brush the crumbs from the bed. Doyle was gone for so long that Bodie was on the point of going to find him when Doyle reappeared with a laden tray and clean-shaven chin.

"Have you gone mad? What did you bother shaving for?" Bodie demanded, balancing on one foot as he removed the second leg of his cords.

Doyle set down the tray only to find a hindering hand exploring his inner thigh. "Because I don't want your skin getting all red and splotchy," he said. Lounging across the bed, his nose was a pleasurable few inches from well-filled navy briefs.

Bodie drew a patient breath and side-stepped a questing finger to concentrate on hauling off his socks. "I may be allergic to a few things but a bit of loving has never been one of them," he reminded his companion.

"I've noticed that." Clambering to his knees, Doyle peeled down the briefs and planted a nuzzling kiss at the downy base of Bodie's spine.

The smooth chin resting against tender flesh made its own explanation as Doyle ran it down the cleft of Bodie's buttocks, his mouth nuzzling in its wake. A flickering tongue tip explored the back of Bodie's thigh.

"'s a nice angle from here," Doyle mumbled appreciatively, one arm encircling a smooth flank, his hand open-palmed and flat against Bodie's belly.

"Ray."

Shivering with the pleasure of that all-knowing tongue, aroused even by the soft brush of hair over his buttocks and the damp breath prickling his skin, Bodie let his voice fade away. Leaden-limbed, he found himself being tumbled down onto the bed, enfolded by the eager press of Ray Doyle all around him.

"Got sensitive skin, you have," Doyle reminded him softly, stroking from neck to navel, from flank to thigh, hand moving in voluptuous detail. "I nearly scraped you raw last time."

"Only because you kept rubbing your face over me," Bodie mumbled weakly, needing a tissue rather badly but finding his hands full of Ray Doyle instead.

"That's because you smell so good."

Doyle wriggled clear of Bodie's seeking hands, wanting no distractions while he concentrated on the sprawled body laid before him. His mouth, tongue, teeth and hands all busy, tasting, teasing and exploring, he measured his partner's heightening pleasure but he gave Bodie no opportunity to reciprocate - or even to think - overloading every sensitised inch of him. His pace was fast at first but gradually it slowed as he paused to dip into the navel.

Bodie whimpered.

Raising his head, a predatory expression of satisfaction in place, Doyle returned to the body spread before him and set about investigating the tender junction between thigh and groin. He used his tongue, hair and skin - every touch he knew would please and others he was still discovering.

Open to every touch, boneless with the pleasure of it, Bodie finally managed to raise his head, his eyes huge-pupilled and dark with need.

"Bit one-sided this, innit?" he gasped, the soft drift of Doyle's hair trickling across his taut-drawn erection almost more than he could bear.

A lecherous chuckle reached him before Doyle nuzzled the springy hair at Bodie's groin, inhaling his scent. Cupping the achingly sensitive testicles, his thumb circled in a slow caress, feeling the fine tremors rippling through Bodie.

"It's going to stay that way, too. You're not well enough for anything too strenuous." Doyle's breath was warm and damp against the urgent arch of Bodie's quivering flesh. "And," he continued with soft provocation, "given the way you were moaning about me rushing things last night I thought you were hinting that I could use the practice."

Bodie gave a groan of sheer frustration when a questing finger tip nudged the entrance to his body. He curved onto his side, wanting, needing, more. He groaned with pleasure when he felt Doyle's tongue tip explore him with a tantalising delicacy.

"Oh, Christ. Practice what you like," he gasped, arching back. "Just - C'mon, Ray, for god's sake."

But Doyle had moved again, his sensual attack redirected to his lover's cock. Revelling in the seeping evidence of Bodie's arousal, he withdrew when Bodie's pelvis thrust involuntarily.

Eyes wide with desperation, Bodie pounced on his partner, capturing Doyle, warm, pliant and unresisting, beneath him.

Chuckling where he lay sprawled in open invitation, Doyle said, "C'mon then. Give it your best shot."

As Doyle had intended, by this time Bodie needed no encouragement.

His face alight, body spread wide, Doyle took all his partner's urgent need deep into the secret places of his own body, gasping at the long, initial thrust that joined them, the brief intense moment of stillness which followed.

Then Bodie was filling him over and over again, every sure, fierce drive reaching closer to his heart. A hard weight pressing him into the mattress, sweat from Bodie's body mingling with his own, Doyle whispered mingled endearments and encouragement, every sense locked with the man joined with him. But he couldn't hold back, lost to the awesome power unleashed on him, his own body clenching down in a long pulse of sunburst shock. Fingers locked in the muscled pads of Bodie's shoulder, head thrown back, Doyle cried out, his eyes wide with the lusty joy of it.

His release triggered his partner's. As Bodie tensed, Doyle's arms locked around him as Bodie shook with the fierce, terrible joy of orgasm.

Slumped against Doyle as his breathing came back under his control, Bodie felt the heart beat beneath his cheek slowing. Stirring from the loose embrace enfolding him to lean up, his weight taken on his forearms like any well-bred gentleman, Bodie smiled into the sated face beneath him.

"You," he announced, inestimably satisfied, "look very pleased with yourself."

His eyes still brilliant with sexual heat, cheekbones gleaming with sweat, Doyle gave a slow smile and traced a gentle finger down his partner's cheek.

"That sounds like a genteel way of saying I looked thoroughly fucked."

Sliding to lie limp at Doyle's side, his head precariously propped on one elbow, the arm of which was still inclined to shake, Bodie's fingers teased damp auburn curls, tracing up the soft line of hair.

"You were," he reminded Doyle, before he yawned.

"I hadn't forgotten," Doyle conceded happily. "Bet you can't do such a good job of dinner thought."

A drowsy self-satisfied eye opened.

"No bet," said Bodie firmly, refusing to be conned.

Philosophical in defeat, Doyle snuggled closer, hauling the duvet over their rapidly cooling flesh. "We must do this more often. It's not often you let all the stops out," he added, his approval obvious.

"Didn't have any choice, did I?" Bodie explained, straight-faced. "I couldn't hang about, me nose was starting to run again."

Doyle's snort was buried in Bodie-scented skin. "That's never bothered you in the past."

Bodie tugged at a fat brown curl until Doyle raised his head, then sought out the ravaged-looking mouth.

"Mmm." Licking his lower lip in a reflective way once the kiss was over, Doyle gave a lazy stretch of total well-being. Aware of small aches and a slight, localised soreness he gave a happy grin. "For that, I'll buy you dinner - the West End sort," he added, knowing his inclined-to-be-suspicious partner.

Bodie considered the offer. "We'll have to get dressed and go out if you do that."

"I'd never have thought of that," said Doyle, all admiration. "Glad you mentioned it."

"Anyway, I thought you promised me a day of sexual excess in bed," Bodie accused with faint reproach.

A sigh wafted past his right ear. "I did, but - I dunno how to break this to you but I shouldn't hold your breath. I'm knackered."

"Wore you out, did I?"

"Yeah."

The word stretched to an impossible number of syllables and Bodie found himself captured by a look of green-eyed promise, heat coiling through him at the wanton's smile.

"Save it," he advised sadly, realism intruding.

"What, you too?"

"Me too what?" Bodie queried, in no mood to attempt serious conversation.

"Shagged out," said Doyle, ever eloquent.

"Certainly not," Bodie denied, all dignity.

"No?"

A blast of cool air eddied over Bodie's body as Doyle raised the duvet and directed a sympathetic look downwards, offering a consoling pat before enfolding them in soft warmth again.

"Want me to prove it?" asked Bodie, never one to concede defeat if the cause was worthy of the endeavour involved.

Tempted, Doyle gave the confident face a considering look. "Joint effort or solo?" he queried with unwonted delicacy.

"Is this the coarse little bugger I used to know and love?" Bodie asked of the room at large.

"Must be your refining influence at work," Doyle mumbled, coiling octopus-like around him.

"You going to sleep?" Bodie enquired, recognising all the signs.

"If you'll keep quiet for long enough, yeah," Doyle muttered into a warm curve of a shoulder.

"No point being subtle," Bodie told unheeding brown curls, "just come right out with it."

Doyle sniffed, rubbed his nose against Bodie's arm and gave a gusting sigh. "Shut up, you mad bugger." And on that note of endearment, he fell asleep.

 

Having been convinced he would not sleep a wink, Bodie was disconcerted on waking to discover he had slept the afternoon through. Stirring he found a pathetic figure bundled next to him, the green eyes red-rimmed.

"Ray, what's up, mate?" Sleep banished, Bodie sat up in a flurry of bedding.

About to tell his partner in no uncertain terms, Doyle sneezed, cursed and sneezed again.

"Oh." Fishing down beside the bed Bodie found the box of tissues and handed them over with a flourish, trying not to grin too obviously. "You look terrible," he said, all suspect sympathy.

Doyle's eyes, which were watering profusely, narrowed. "I feel it," he croaked.

"I suppose this means we won't be going out to dinner then?" said Bodie, always one to keep his priorities in order.

A bottle of vitamin pills in one hand, a soggy bundle of tissues in the other, Doyle gave him an inimical glare and disappeared under the duvet.

With a resigned sigh through miraculously cleared sinuses Bodie got dressed and went out to the take-away on the corner of the road.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Written March 1983
> 
> Reprinted in 'HG Collected 1'


End file.
